


DA Drunk Writing Anthology

by Fairfaxleasee



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age II, Dragon Age: Inquisition, Dragon Age: Origins, Dragon Age: Origins - Awakening
Genre: Anthology, Dragon Age Drunk Writing Circle, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-27
Updated: 2021-03-13
Packaged: 2021-03-19 03:29:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 7,533
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29744322
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fairfaxleasee/pseuds/Fairfaxleasee
Summary: Anthology/master post with my various drabbles for DA Drunk Writing Circle (Chapter-specific tags will be used where appropriate)
Relationships: Alistair (Dragon Age)/Original Female Character(s), Female Cousland/Nathaniel Howe, Fenris/Female Hawke, Fenris/Hawke (Dragon Age), Fen’Harel | Solas/Female Inquisitor, Nathaniel Howe/Female Warden, Solas/Female Trevelyan (Dragon Age), Zevran Arainai/Female Tabris, Zevran Arainai/Female Warden
Kudos: 8





	1. How much have you had? - Solas/Ayala

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt me on tumblr https://fairfaxleasee.tumblr.com/promptlist

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ayala takes dubious romantic advice from Dorian.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Specific Tags: Mentor/Protégé, Alcohol use

“Lethallan, just how much have you had?” Solas raised an eyebrow at Ayala Trevelyan as she giggled while she was slumped across the library table.

“Uh… not much I don’t think?” Ayala managed to say between fits of laughter.

Solas wouldn’t believe the statement from anyone else. In addition to the laughter (which was what first alerted him to come up the stairs from his usual haunt in Skyhold) and the fact that Ayala didn’t seem to be able to sit up straight, her face was flushed. She was obviously drunk, but given that whatever alcohol was in her glass had been poured from a bottle covered in Tevene that Dorian must have provided and how rarely she drank anything, it was entirely possible that she had only had a few sips.

“Has anyone ever told you, Solas - you’re a positively dreadful worrywart. I’m keeping an eye on her, she’s perfectly safe. Besides, you had plenty of time to corrupt our dear Herald before I got here, mysterious elven apostate that you are - I think it’s only sporting that you let the evil agent of the Black Divine have a fair shake at it.” Dorian poured himself another full glass from the bottle.

Solas couldn’t decide whether he wanted to narrow his eyes or roll them at the man. He settled for closing them and shaking his head, “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Oh, come now - all the ‘private training sessions’ you two get up to? It’s all over Skyhold you know.”

“…are you referring to the glyphs I instruct her about?”

“My dear man! I am _insulted_ you think you need to lie to me!” Dorian pressed a hand to his chest in mock affront.

“Oh, but he does teach me glyphs though! Why do you think that’s a lie?” Ayala gave up trying to sit up and put her elbow on the table so she could use a hand to prop her head up.

“Ye gods, you poor, little Southern Circle mage! Don’t tell me you actually _study_ with the man!”

“What else would we do?”

Dorian took a gulp of his drink, “Study each other, for a start.”

“I don’t -”

Solas cut Ayala off, “That’s enough, Dorian! And she’s obviously had more than enough. Come, lethallan, I’ll see you to your quarters.”

“That’s quite unnecessary, Solas! She’s perfectly fine. And capable of making her own decisions.”

“Not when she’s too drunk to even sit up!”

“…are you mad at me?” Ayala turned to Solas. She’d stopped laughing and he could see tears in the corner of her eyes.

“No, lethallan. I am however rather annoyed at your companion, whose idiotic idea I can only assume this was.”

“I - well - that’s…” Dorian sputtered.

“Entirely accurate?” Solas offered.

“…I just wanted to be able to be normal and talk with you. Dorian said it’d be easier if I loosened up a little…”

Dorian leaned across the table, “I thought we agreed that you weren’t going to tell him that part!”

“..but if he’s mad it doesn’t matter ‘cause he won’t talk to me anyway.”

“We can discuss matters in private at another time, lethallan,” he tried to keep his voice neutral but either he didn’t succeed or she interpreted his neutrality as anger.

“…okay,” she pushed the chair back and tried to stand. She stumbled almost immediately and Solas rushed over to catch her. Fortunately Dorian was either too drunk or too ashamed of himself to question how Solas could easily carry the human woman out of the library towards her chambers (even if both eventualities seemed equally unlikely to Solas).

She was silent the entire way there. He had thought she was asleep but she grabbed his necklace when he laid her down on her bed. “It’s later and private, so we can talk now?”

He could hear the hope in her words. He should quash it now. For both their sakes. “You’re still clearly inebriated, lethallan. Now is not the time for any discussion.”

“But if I’m not, I can’t… I don’t…” 

He watched her ransack her mind for an explanation. If he could be firm here, now, he could end things before they truly began. “Perhaps you would be more equipped to discuss things in the Fade?”

…that was _not_ what he intended to have said.

“But how?”

“It is possible for two mages to communicate with each other directly in the Fade. There is a bit of a trick to it, however I am confident you will catch on.”

Why was he offering to get closer to her? She already trusted him - saw him as an advisor, a mentor. He didn’t need anything more from her. He shouldn’t even be considering anything more with her. Let alone all but begging for it.

“Do you promise?”

_No. Say ‘NO!’_

“Yes, lethallan.”

“Do you need to show me?”

“No, the trick involves finding each other. But don’t worry, I have it on good authority where to look for you.”

“How?”

“Several of my friends speak very highly of you,” she looked at him quizzically. “You would not know them out here,” he explained.

“Oh. Those friends.”

“Yes, those friends.”

“So…” she ran a finger along the halla jawbone.

“I will follow you in a bit, lethallan.”

She let go of the necklace and sank back against the mattress. Solas left her chambers and walked back to his own to do the least advisable thing he could think of. Find Ayala Trevelyan in the Fade.


	2. How did it start? - Fenris/Cassia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Varric can't quite believe what he heard. Or what he's seeing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter specific tags: None, G rated.

_Did she just… giggle?_

Varric stared at Cassia Hawke in abject disbelief. For the first week he’d known the woman, he’d have sworn she only had two expressions - blank stare and ‘I will murder you in ways you can’t even comprehend’ glare. It had taken the week’s worth of careful observation to conclude that, rather than resembling a block of ice, as was the popular belief, she actually bore a more striking resemblance to an iceberg - dangerous to approach unprepared and everything happening below the surface. It had taken him almost a month to wear her down enough to get her to actually talk with him without things much sharper than the daggers she carried to be worried about.

But while he’d figured her out, or at least figured out as much of the puzzle the woman was as he was ever going to (she could be an iceberg and a puzzle at the same time, right? Maybe he’d have to settle for one metaphor if he ever wrote anything down…), he had never considered that Jigsaw was _capable_ of making a sound like he thought he’d just heard.

“Hey, uh, Blondie…” Varric tugged on the mage’s arm to get his attention, “Did you hear what I just heard?”

“What, that self-centered elf being a hostile ass to me again?”

“No, Blondie. Whenever you and Elf are talking to each other I tune both of you out. I meant did you hear Jigsaw just now?”

Varric stuck out his hand to stop Anders from responding when he noticed Hawke bring a closed fist up to her mouth. That was the same thing she had done the first time he heard what he still couldn’t quite believe he’d heard.

“Heh… that’s _terrible_ , Fenris.”

Nope, that was a giggle. That was a woman who carried enough daggers to arm an army, and enough poison to kill that same army, giggling.

“Is that your way of asking me to stop, Hawke?”

Oh, great. Now Elf was acting weird too… he had his arms crossed, that at least wasn’t unusual, but he was looking directly at Jigsaw and… smiling?

_So Jigsaw’s giggling and the broody elf was telling jokes AND smiling. And somehow the Hanged Man hasn’t been struck by lightning…_

“Ha, no…” she moved her hand to twirl a strand of her hair around a finger as she leaned slightly towards the elf. “I said it was terrible, not that you should stop.”

“So you like things that are terrible, then?”

“…”

Varric couldn’t hear her whispered reply, but judging by the grin spreading over Elf’s face, it was only making this a bigger mess.

“She must like terrible things if she likes him at all!” Blondie’s arms were crossed over his chest and he was glaring at them both.

“What was that, mage?” Elf’s eyes snapped away from Jigsaw and trained on Anders.

“You heard me!”

Varric saw Jigsaw move a bit out of the corner of his eye, but couldn’t quite place the movement as he focused on her. Once he did, he could clearly see her tug at the spikes in Elf’s armor and leaned in to whisper to him again.

Elf kept glaring at Blondie for a few seconds before he turned back to Jigsaw and his face softened. And Varric would be damned if he didn’t see the woman look away as she pouted slightly while sneaking glances back at Elf with downcast eyes as she whispered to him some more and he started smiling again!

Varric shook his head. It was a good thing they were in the Hanged Man because he wasn’t nearly drunk enough to deal with this new development.

He hit Blondie in the elbow to keep the man from provoking either Elf or Jigsaw again, either of them were dangerous enough alone let alone if they were focused on the same target, “Come on, Blondie, I’ll buy you a drink.”

“And you’re okay with just leaving them alone together?”

“When the alternative is trying to personally break them apart? Yes, yes I am. But I’m fond of breathing.”


	3. "It breaks my heart to see you like this" - Nate/Sloane

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nathaniel Howe is/is not sympathetic to Sloane Cousland's current plight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter specific tags: Alcohol use.

“It’s breaking my heart to see you like this, Sloane.”

“You’re a LYING BASTARD Nathaniel Howe!” Sloane Cousland technically shouted that to her mattress but she was sure the grinning idiot in the doorway would realize who it was aimed at.

“Come now, Sloane, what makes you think I’m lying?” Every footstep the man took towards her bed hammered in her skull.

“I heard you laughing at me from the doorway!”

“Well, dear, I can laugh at you while this breaks my heart, can’t I?”

She felt him sit on the bed. Her stomach and head both objected to the movement. She could barely summon the requisite umbrage to retort, “No! You can’t!”

He sighed and laughed again, “I told you not to drink anything that dwarf gave you.”

“I just wanted to shut him up!”

“Well, he did pass out not long after you did. And I suppose you did manage to make it longer than either Anders or Sigrun.” She felt him move some hair away from her face and she squinted at the light it let in, “But seriously, Sloane, would you please start thinking about things before you actually do them? Justice and I thought you were actually dead for a second there when you fainted after downing the entire glass of whatever that stuff was.”

“Ugh, I think he said it was fermented deep mushroom or something… which probably means it was fermented anything BUT deep mushroom.”

“Knowing Oghren, I suggest you not dwell on it too much. Some mysteries are better left unsolved. But this really does go back to my point about thinking THEN doing.”

“If I took that stupid advice we wouldn’t be together!”

He chuckled and pushed more hair away from her face now that the light was a bit less blinding than it had been. “Yes, well, that was when you were scaring Fergus half to death with the habit. Your brother’s been very clear with me, now that we’re engaged, I’m in charge of worrying about you when you do things like this.”

“Who went and told my brother about my goal of finally making Oghren shut up!”

“My sister, if I had to guess. I’m pretty sure he’s paying her by the tidbit for gossip.”

“Ugh! I hate our siblings!”

“Yes, well, I really do hate seeing you like this, Sloane.”

She turned and smiled at him.

He smiled back before he continued, “Even if it is just a bit funny.”

She narrowed her eyes, “Nathaniel as soon as everything stops spinning and I figure which of the three of you is solid, you are in very big trouble.”

“I can’t wait.”


	4. "This is Not How I Wanted to Tell You" - Zevran/Avalonne

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zevran shares some unpleasant information with Avalonne.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter-specific Tags: Minor Blood

“This is not how I wanted to tell you,” Zevran bent to remove his dagger from one of the bodies closer to him.

The body in front of Avalonne Tabris was fresh enough to still be bleeding. She’d seen her share of bodies, but when Zevran had left her in the market not that long ago with a whispered, ‘I shall be but a moment, _cara rosa bianca_ ,’ she hadn’t been expecting bodies to be involved.

Although that might have been slightly her fault; the man she loved was an assassin after all. “I don’t -” she started, “Tell me _what_ , Zevran?”

He took a step towards her, then stopped and looked to her with tentative hope on his face. Avalonne lifted her skirt and stepped around the pool of blood in front of her. As soon as Zevran saw her move to meet him, he appeared almost instantly in front of her. He reached out to try and put an errant strand of her hair back into its braid and smiled melancholically at her, “Ah, _rosa bianca_ , you recall my tales of my former associates, correct?”

“The crows?” Avalonne had no idea why they were suddenly relevant.

“Indeed. It seems they have deemed my habit of breathing inconvenient to their reputation and have become quite insistent on killing me.”

“So? What does that matter?”

He shook his head and laughed, “Oh, Avalonne, truly I do not know whether to praise your faith in me or bemoan your callousness towards me that you do not care that a guild of assassins seeks my head.”

She crossed her arms, “They’re not going to get it so what does it matter?”

He smiled, “No, that they will not, but as you have just witnessed, they are aware I am in Denerim. Which does, unfortunately, mean that I will have to find a different place to be for at least a little while.”

“I... oh.” She lowered her eyes. “So you’re leaving then?”

“Come, _rosa bianca_ , do not look so sad! You will kill me before the Crows get a fighting chance. You are, of course, welcome to come with me, but...”

He didn’t need to say it. Avalonne’s life was here, in Denerim. It wasn’t something she could walk into and out of. “Are you... will you come back?

He leaned over and pressed his lips to hers. Avalonne had never had any of the Antivan wine Zevran would rave about - she wasn’t sure she wanted to, because as far as she was concerned Zevran’s lips tasted of it and she didn’t want to risk being proved wrong. When he pulled away he whispered to her, “ _Cara rosa bianca_ , a murder of crows could not keep me from returning to you.”


	5. "Scream All You Want, No One Can Hear You" - Fenris/Cass

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Neither Dante nor Fenris is pleased with the travel arrangements for their upcoming trip to Skyhold

“Scream all you want. No one can hear you!” Dante hissed at the stupid elf as it tried to touch him again. Cass called the stupid elf ‘Fenris,’ but Dante knew it was really stupid elf.

“You _noxious pest_ , do you even realize you’re just making this more difficult for _both of us_?” stupid elf narrowed its eyes and glared.

Dante pressed his ears against his head and hissed at stupid elf again, “I don’t care! I want Cass!”

“ _I know you want Cass! I want Cass too!_ And if you would just get in the blighted basked we could _go to where Cass is_!”

“No! You bring Cass here, stupid elf!”

Stupid elf huffed a breath out its nose and muttered, “If I weren’t positive Cass would come right back here and get you herself...” then went wandering out of the room.

Dante waited until he was sure stupid elf was gone before walking over to the basket it had wanted to put Dante in. Dante sniffed at it a few times before batting it off the table. Dante didn’t even like going in the basked for Cass, so why stupid elf thought he would do it for _it_...

Dante hopped up to his window seat. He didn’t like his window seat as much as he liked sitting on Cass, but he could see lots of interesting outside things from it. He was sure he’d see Cass outside it soon.

It was all stupid elf’s fault she wasn’t here now. Stupid elf was supposed to be in charge of protecting her. That was the only reason Dante put up with it. Cass was attached to it, but Cass obviously loved Dante much more than stupid elf. Cass would be just fine with just Dante, if it weren’t for all the bad things that were hunting her. And stupid elf was _supposed_ to stop them but didn’t, so Cass had had to go to someplace called ‘Skihole’ and hadn’t been able to bring Dante with. But before she’d left she promised she’d come back. So why was stupid elf here and not her?

\---------------------------------------

Fenris looked around the corner into the kitchen. He _hated_ that he was hiding from the damn cat-thing _again_ , but he’d promised Cass he’d bring the blighted thing to Skyhold with him (she wouldn’t have agreed to go if he hadn’t; she’d barely agreed to go and he _had_ ).

The evil creature was sitting in its window box; it liked looking at all the things that were smaller than it was and plotting to kill them - probably practice for the next time it tried to kill Fenris. (It was lucky for all the bounty hunters, assassins, and agents hunting Cass she wouldn’t let Fenris throw the cat-thing at them and let it take a few out; if she would Cass might not have had to flee to Skyhold when the Ben-Hassrath, Tevinter, and Chantry agents finally managed to figure out that if they worked _together_ to try and kill Cass they might be able to divy up the bounty rather than their bodies being divied up by Cass). He waited until he saw a bird fly by and the cat-thing’s head started following it before he leapt into the room and shoved the other basked over the cat-thing.

It started yowling immediately, “Stupid elf! How dare you! This is an outrage! I’m telling Cass you were mean to me!”

“Shut _up_ you little beast!” Fenris slid the basked off the window box and pressed the lid down as the cat-thing clawed at him through the larger weave of the back-up basket. Fenris ignored the pain in his hands as he pressed the basket closed while he went to find the cat food and pour a bit into the basket. He wasn’t sure what he was going to do about getting the thing water, but he’d figure that out on the way to Skyhold.

_Evil thing probably lives on spite and doesn’t even need food or water..._

He got a length of rope and tied the basket closed. The cat-thing wasn’t letting up its protests, “You wait til Cass hears about this, stupid elf! She’s going to get rid of you this time! You just wait!”

Fenris narrowed his eyes at the basket. This was going to be a very long trip to Skyhold.


	6. "You've Been Crying, I Can Tell" - Fenris/Cass

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fenris finds Cass in her office after a less-than-ideal day at the firm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Specific Tags: Modern AU, Autism Spectrum

“You’ve been crying, I can tell.” Fenris couldn’t actually see Cassia Hawke’s face, most of it was obscured by her hoodie, but he’d been able to tell she’d been crying long before he made it to her basement office and saw someone, and unfortunately the list of suspects was too long to narrow down even if he were almost positive it was either Bran or her brother, had ripped her favorite poster, the one referencing one of the old shows she liked with a terrible picture of a UFO and the words ‘I want to believe’ written at the bottom (Cass didn’t care one way or another about aliens, but she liked the show and the character and she could claim all she wanted that she’d picked the basement office so the reference would make sense, he was positive it was only the reference that made the tomb the firm had buried her in even vaguely palatable).

The fact that she was buried in the first place was an outrage; Kirkwall Associates had been nothing before Cass (he should know, he’d been their off-the-books witness assassin for a while before Cass came on as a research specialist) and they’d be nothing again without her. Although knowing the Partners they were well aware and that’s _why_ they’d shoved her down here. Of course, she was too vital for them to _keep_ her down here.

They’d keep dragging her out to court whenever the technicalities got too numerous or too complicated for any of the rest of them to keep up with, no matter how much she hated going. And that’s what they’d done today based on what he’d been able to piece together from the snippets of conversation he’d overheard at the party in the part of the firm everyone else got to work in. (He wasn’t any more welcome at the party than she was, but he’d come to drop off a memory card with some incriminating photos).

Bran had been busy loudly telling everyone how he’d managed to secure a win for the Starkhaven account. The client, Sebastian, had mentioned something about Cass’ impressive performance in court and wondered where she was. Fenris could still see Bran rolling his entire head as he sneered, “Rainman’s in the basement. Don’t bother with her, she likes it better down there.”

Fenris hadn’t stuck around to hear any more of the conversation. Bran may have been right that Cass liked the basement better than a party, but if she’d spent an entire day being called ‘Rainman’ and trying to hold it together in court, he wanted to make sure she was at least moderately okay.

It had taken him a few minutes to find her once he was in the basement, she wasn’t at her desk; instead she was sitting against one of the bookshelves. She barely responded to his comment; her head rose slightly and she exhaled an “Mm.”

That wasn’t a good sign, her favorite way to greet him was, ‘Hello Mister Wolf.’ It was apparently a line from something, but he hadn’t learned what yet. She’d told him (likely more than once), but she referenced a lot of things he wasn’t familiar with and while he was working on learning them all there were a lot he still couldn’t keep straight.

“Cass?” He knelt on the floor beside her. This close he could finally see the tracks of the tears on her face he knew would be there.

“Sorry, I wasn’t doing great so I had to take some klonopin,” she gestured vaguely to a drawer in the desk where she kept the medicine she needed, even if he knew she was ashamed of needing it. But at least she’d actually taken it this time. 

“Do you need a ride home?”

She shook her head. “No reason to make you wait for me.”

“You’re not making me, I offered. But why do you want to wait?”

“Don’t want to wait, just don’t want to run into the party. And there’s no way out that’s not through it that won’t set off an alarm.”

“Hmm...” Fenris reached into a pocket and pulled out a key. Cass may not have an alternate way out, but none of the partners wanted him to be seen in the lobby so they’d given him a key to a door that led to the alley. “I can take care of that if you want me to, Cass.”

“I... are you sure you don’t have anything better to do?”

“Absolutely nothing in the world.”


	7. "We won’t be able to hide in time" - Fenris/Cass

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cassia Hawke is less than pleased when one of the men Bran introduces her to is disinclined to take 'fuck off' for an answer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter-specific tags: Minor blood, autism spectrum

“We won’t be able to hide in time!” Even Cassia Hawke could hear the panic in her voice at the realization as she clung to Fenris’ chest plate. 

And it was _so stupid_ she even felt the need to hide in the first place! She’d won against Darkspawn, an Arishok, Blood Mages, Abominations, some sort of lyrium-enhanced Knight Commander, and more random people who thought it would be a good idea to take her on than she could even remember; the man after her now would probably die (or at least surrender) after the first blow from _any_ of those things. But she wasn’t fighting him in a way she could win - she couldn’t use her daggers, or her poisons, or her words, or her wit (she’d spent over an hour trying the last two and had gotten precisely nowhere getting them through the man’s thick skull - it reminded her far too much of dealing with Anders for her taste, with zero possibility of an endgame _nearly_ as satisfying). To win, she needed some sort of ‘socially acceptable’ way to explain why she, a single noblewoman, wasn’t at all interested in marrying him, a single nobleman, and Cass and ‘socially acceptable’ were about the least reconcilable concepts in existence (Anders and logic had given them a run for their money, but with the apostate being dead, Cass didn’t think they counted anymore).

“Don’t worry - I won’t let him touch you.” Fenris whispered his reassurance as he pushed a few errant strands of hair out of Cass’ face (she’d torn the crown she’d been wearing off and shoved it in Bran’s face when he’d tried to stop her from leaving the marriage interview by grabbing her arm and hissing at her, “If you’re going to be Viscount, you need to _start acting_ like it and start living up to the expectations! Like getting married and _acting normal in public_!”).

Cass whimpered in protest. The only thing she hated more than having to pretend Fenris was her bodyguard was having to actually _use_ Fenris as her bodyguard. “You _can’t_ Fenris, no one will believe-”

She was spared having to articulate all the things no one would ever believe by the door to the entrance hall slamming open and the irate voice of whatever man she’d been talking to in the interview (they were all very much the same to her) catching up and shouting, “I _demand_ an explanation for this!”

Cass still didn’t understand why the explanation she’d already given (“I can’t stand looking at you and would _never_ marry you!”) was somehow insufficient (she’d used the smallest words she could think of and _thought_ she’d said them fairly loudly and slowly). It had worked on all the rest of the men who hadn’t managed to glean her disinterest in them and forced her to lay it out for them (or if it hadn’t, at least none of the rest of them had followed her out of the guest suites as she stomped back to her personal apartment). She tensed against Fenris as she straightened her back - she may be terrified of the man and everything he represented, but there was absolutely _no_ way he could be allowed to realize that. Fenris coaxed her fingers off his armor and shifted them so he was between Cass and whatever man was probably stalking towards them across the hall; the dull ringing in her head had started and Cass could barely hear Fenris as he snarled, “Demands will get you nowhere; she gave you her explanation; now leave or I will _make_ you!”

Cass thought she heard the man say something about a ‘knife-ear’ but didn’t look up until she heard the screaming (which was surprising because she still felt Fenris’ hand on her arm as he pushed her towards the door to their apartment).

“Dear Maker, what _is_ this monstrosity!”

“Hmm... looks like the damn cat-thing isn’t useless after all...” Fenris muttered.

Cass saw Dante down in the foyer engaged in a ferocious battle against her tormentor’s shoes and trousers. Cass thought it was odd, because she was positive she’d locked him in the apartment, but she wasn’t going to argue; _she_ might not be able to stab the man, and _Fenris_ might not be able to stab the man, but Dante was a cat - he couldn’t be expected to consider the consequences of his actions. She stepped closer to Fenris so she could whisper to him, “Did you let him out?”

Fenris turned and grinned at her. She didn’t think he looked happy, but he didn’t seem angry or upset, “No, our armistice only works if we both keep away from each other. But I _did_ tell you I thought he could open the door.”

“Well, as long as Bran can’t trace it to you, I don’t care.” She glanced around Fenris to make sure no one was paying any attention to them. The idiot who was following her was nowhere to be seen, but judging by the trail of blood that lead back towards the guest suites and door Dante was hissing at, he’d decided against trying to shake Cass down for an explanation after all. Bran, unfortunately, had made it into the entrance hall before the man had retreated, but he was trying to help the steward trap Squall, who must have taken advantage of the door Dante had opened to run out and steal the master keyring. Satisfied that everyone was sufficiently distracted, she leaned against Fenris. “I’m tired.”

He smiled at her, “Alright. I’ll deal with Bran if he ever manages to catch Squall _and_ wrangle Dante.”

“There’s another way out of the guest wing, right?” Cass did _not_ want to be called in to save the man, but she also wanted him out of the Keep.

“It’s not pleasant, but it’s usable. Of course, if he objects, I’m more than willing to throw him out a window.”

“First floor only.”

“If you insist.” He cradled her cheek in his hand and ran his thumb along her cheekbone, “Come on, let’s get you to bed. You look like you could use some sleep.”

“I’m sorry...” Her cocooning herself in every blanket in the apartment wasn’t either of their favorite way to end a day where she’d been forced into _another_ marriage interview, but she’d had to spend almost the entire day _before_ the interview listening to an endless string of complaints about how everyone _but_ whoever was yammering at her should have to pay the taxes she was levying to repair Kirkwall - she just didn’t have the energy for anything else left.

“Don’t be.”

She twisted the ring he’d given her the day before her coronation around her finger. “I’ll make them stop, Fenris. I promise, I’ll-”

“Shh...” He pulled gently at her arm to lead her up the stairs to their apartment. “I know you will, Cass. But it doesn’t have to be tonight.”


	8. “If you move from that spot, so help me, I will tie you down!" - Alistair/Amelia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alistair and his future father-in-law have some differences of opinion, much to the chagrin of Amelia.

“If you move from that spot, so help me, I will tie you down!”

Alistair glared up at the man currently admonishing him, who for his part glared right back at Alistair.

_Of all the people in Thedas Amelia could be related to…_

Loghain MacTir was by far Alistair’s last choice. And Loghain had made it abundantly clear that of all the people in Thedas his younger daughter could have picked to love, Alistair was by far his last choice. Their mutual animosity was the only thing they actually agreed on.

Alistair’s animosity was, of course, perfectly justified. After all, it was Loghain’s betrayal that had gotten Cailan, Duncan, and so many other people killed at Ostagar - not to mention all the times the man had tried to kill him since. Loghain’s problem with Alistair was entirely unfair. _Just_ because Alistair’s brother had (repeatedly) cheated on his wife (although it probably didn’t help that Cailan’s wife had been Loghain’s _other_ daughter) and Alistair’s father had (again, repeatedly) cheated on _his_ wife (again, probably didn’t help that his Marik’s wife had been the great love of Loghain’s life), Loghain had it in his head that it was only a matter of time before Alistair broke Amelia’s heart.

Although that wasn’t what had brought on the current spat (by Alistair’s count in was the seventh of the afternoon, eighteenth of the day, and forty-second of the visit, and as far as he was concerned he’d won them all). What had brought on the _current_ spat was Loghain interrupting his time visiting with Amelia (Alistair didn’t particularly care that Amelia had asked her father to come to Gwaren to help her sort through the paperwork that she was expected to handle as Teryna and needed to finish before their wedding and Alistair had surprised her by coming down unannounced - but she _had_ been happy to see him!). Amelia had spent _far_ too much of the afternoon for Alistair’s liking engaged in conversation with her father about the work she was trying to get done and not nearly enough paying attention to him (…and helping him with all the work he was supposed to do that he didn’t understand). All he’d tried to do was get her attention a bit! He’d moved the chair he was using to the part of the table she was at so he could sit next to her and talk to her too… and hold her hand a bit… and possibly kiss her once or twice. He didn’t know _what_ Loghain was getting so upset about, she was his betrothed! _And_ he’d done a lot more than just kiss her on the cheek (…although Loghain probably didn’t need to know about any of that… ever).

Loghain’s arms had been crossed and he was glaring at Alistair when Amelia had grabbed one of his arms to try and uncross them as she whispered, “Father, _please_ calm down, it’s fine!” Then she turned to Alistair and gave him her hand; he brought it to his mouth to kiss it (he was positive Loghain had harrumphed at that, but Amelia tapped Alistair’s face to prevent him reacting to the provocation). “Alistair, I told you I need to finish this work. I’ll help you when I’m done, okay?”

“Let the boy do his own work, Amelia. I don’t want to watch _both_ of my daughters waste years propping up _unworthy_ men-”

“FATHER! I asked you to _stop_ saying things like that!”

Loghain shifted his gaze away from Amelia to glare at Alistair. Alistair knew a ‘Just because I can’t say it doesn’t make it any less true’ glare when he saw one. He crossed his arms and turned back to his own incomprehensible work. He had _zero_ interest in either Loghain’s attention or opinions.

“I’ll be done soon, I promise,” Amelia kissed Alistair’s temple softly, provoking an even angrier protest from her father.

But Amelia _hadn’t_ been done soon - or at least she hadn’t been done soon enough for Alistair’s taste, and he’d just been trying to get her attention… by untying the lace on her corset… repeatedly… progressively more slowly. Which is what had caused Loghain to come stomping over, grab Alistair with one hand and Alistair’s chair with the other, and drag them _all_ the way across the room to the other end of the table and whisper his threat.

“You do know I’m King now, right? You really shouldn’t go around threatening me,” Alistair replied.

“You are King because of _her_ and her alone, and I am _not_ going to let you repay her for it by using her and ‘putting her aside’ on the advice of Eamon!”

Alistair crossed his arms and tried to think of a response. Fortunately he was spared having to by Amelia calling from across the room, “Are you two behaving down there?”

“Yes, love!”

“It’s fine, Amelia.”

Alistair and Loghain responded in unison. They waited for Amelia’s focus to return to her papers before glaring at each other and picking up where they left off. “Is it _really_ so hard for you to believe that I love her and want to make her happy?”

“Considering the way your father and brother ‘loved’ their wives, _yes it is_!”

“You know, considering what _you_ did, I’m not sure that it’s really fair for you to criticize my father.”

“I don’t _care_ whether it’s fair! And I don’t care whether you’re King! I’m telling you right now, Alistair - if you hurt her, I will kill you.”

“Like you killed Cailan?”

“Yes.”

Amelia cut in again, “Are you _sure_ everything is okay down there?”

Alistair winced when he looked to her. She was breathing heavily and there were tears in her eyes. Alistair hazarded a glance at Loghain, who looked about as ashamed of himself as Alistair felt. He knew, of course, that Amelia didn’t like him arguing with her father. He just couldn’t seem to stop doing it (even if it _was_ entirely Loghain’s fault it kept happening).

“We’re fine, love.”

“Everything’s under control, Amelia.”

Amelia kept staring at them longer this time but did _eventually_ turn back to her papers. Once she did, Loghain went right back to glairing at Alistair completely unashamed of himself.

“You know, Loghain - you’re a Warden now, you shouldn’t even _be_ visiting with nobility.”

“I am her father first and foremost, Alistair!”

“Oh? Is that why you locked her up for a decade and kept pushing her away so you wouldn’t have to be honest with her?”

“ _I did that to protect her, and if you can’t understand that-”_

The sound of the door slamming cut Loghain’s tirade off. It was obvious what had happened, Amelia was nowhere to be seen and an armful of papers was missing from the table.

“Well, look what you did, Loghain. I hope you’re happy.”

Loghain rounded on Alistair, “What _I_ did-”

Eighth spat of the afternoon, nineteenth of the day, and forty-third of the visit…


	9. Kisses Meant To Distract The Other Person From Whatever They Were Intently Doing - Solas/Ayala

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Solas comes up with an interesting way to keep Ayala from learning too much.

“Vhenan?” Solas called down the corridor in the ancient tomb they’d been exploring. Somehow Ayala Treveylan had gotten separated from the group again (although Solas _still_ couldn’t figure out how she managed to do that so often _while_ leading it, and he couldn’t even be annoyed that Bull and Varric had missed her doing so when he’d made the same mistake).

He wasn’t worried about her getting hurt, her talent for barriers was unrivaled even in his vast experience. He was _very_ worried about her learning more than he could afford for her to know. That… wasn’t an eventuality he could even begin to consider.

He turned a corner and called again, “Vhenan?” He narrowed his eyes when he saw the opening in the wall. Whatever she’d found, it wasn’t something he had built, but there could still be damaging information kept within. 

_How does she keep_ finding _these things!_

It was almost like one of the Evanuris were leading her to them in an attempt to mock him. Although strictly speaking, he _was_ one of the Evanuris and he had lead her to similar caches. He entered the concealed alcove. Ayala was standing in front of a pedestal with her back to him. She seemed totally absorbed with whatever had her attention. And given that the pedestal was the only thing in the alcove, Solas was positive that whatever was _on_ the pedestal was the last thing he wanted Ayala focused on.

“ _Vhenan_?” now that he could see her there was no need to shout. “What have you found?”

“Hm?” Ayala turned her head slightly in his direction but didn’t face him. Whatever it was she had was too enticing.

He growled softly, annoyed that the woman he loved - no, not loved; he wasn’t sure _what_ he felt for Ayala Treveylan, he had finally been forced to admit that whatever it was was far beyond the infatuation he’d insisted it was for so long, but it couldn’t _possibly_ be love. Being forced to try to pin a word on his feelings did nothing for his ire at the fact that the woman who would usually stop at nothing for his attention was so engrossed with something _else_.

…that he only cared about because it could expose his deception. He came up behind her and lifted his hand so he could pull her hair back from her face, she’d turned the locks that framed her face a pale lilac that day that offset the natural walnut brown of the rest of her hair beautifully. “ _Vhenan_ , tell me what you found. Please?”

He clamped his mouth shut, lest his tongue betray him again. _She_ sought _his_ attention. It did _not_ work the other way around. But at least the careless slip caused her to turn towards him enough for him to see what she had. “Oh! Solas, sorry, I didn’t see you there.” His eyes narrowed at the small cube in her hands. “It’s some kind of puzzle box, I think I’ve almost got it solved.”

 _How does she keep_ FINDING _these things?!?_

It was one of Ghilan'nain’s boxes, Solas recognized the glowing inlays and intricate mechanics. The anchor, Quiss’ prison, and now _this_ \- it was almost like the relics of Elvhanan were throwing themselves at her feet _begging_ her to know and understand their hidden mysteries. (He refused to adknowledge that there was an argument to be made that _he_ was a relic of Elvhanan that was sorely tempted to do the same). And not only had she _found_ one of Ghilan'nain’s boxes, she had, indeed, almost solved it. 

And she couldn’t be allowed to do it. Of course, ‘How does one pull Ayala Trevelyan away from a puzzle she hasn’t solved’ was a riddle with an obvious, if useless, answer: one didn’t. But he _had_ to try. If she solved that puzzle, she’d solve his. And that couldn’t happen.

He wrapped his arms around her. He leaned into her and pressed his nose against her cheek as he whispered, “I have every faith in your abilities.” Then he shifted so he could touch his lips to her cheek in a soft kiss. He wasn’t sure what had possessed him to do that, they’d done that (and more) in the Fade, but he’d never considered kissing her in the waking world before.

The gesture seemed to surprise her as much as it had done him. She put the box back on the pedestal and turned in his arms. “Solas?” She tilted her head to him in confusion.

“I… apologize, _vhenan_. I know how you feel about being touched, but…” he trailed off. He had no _idea_ how to explain himself to her. Possibly because he had no idea how to explain it to himself.

She reached out towards his face, but stopped herself before she actually touched it. Her hand hovered just above his cheek; she kept drawing it back just before she touched him but every time she did, she would inch it closer again.

He shifted his grip on her to press her to him and crushed his lips over hers. She let out a soft mewl of surprise, but that was quickly followed by moans of pleasure as the hand that had been near his face rubbed the back of his head and her other hand gripped the fur lining of his armor to pull him into her. He leaned into her harder - pressing against her with enough ferocity that it cost her a bit of her balance and she was forced to take a step back.

The clatter of metal on stone surprised both of them and they broke apart to see what had caused it.

“Oh, no!” Ayala dropped to her knees before the shattered box. Solas knelt to help her pick up the pieces.

“I apologize again, _vhenan_. I had forgotten that was there.” Not having to lie to Ayala about stopping her from learning too much was a new experience for Solas. He didn’t enjoy it as much as he’d enjoyed the previous ones, but he had to admit it was more of a relief than he was expecting.

“Do you think we can fix it?” She looked up at him pleadingly.

The box’s glow had vanished, the spell over it - the thing that could have been a danger, was broken. It was nothing but a toy now. “Well, that depends on what you mean, _vhenan_. I believe we may be able to put it back together, and the puzzle mechanism may work, but whatever secrets the box may have held are lost.”

“I… oh.” She looked away.

Solas raised an eyebrow in confusion. Ayala’s passion for these things was in the riddle, the challenge; not the solution. She didn’t care any more for the secrets of Elvhinan than she did the latest fashion. “ _Vhenan_?” He reached under her chin to try to nudge her to look at him.

“…I thought if I solved it there might be something you’d be interested in. I thought maybe I’d actually be able to impress you…”

“You _do_ impress me, _vhenan_. More than I could have imagined.”

Not lying to Ayala was a bigger relief than he could have imagined. He’d have to try and find more opportunities to do it in the future. Along with the other things they’d done.


End file.
